


you sing louder than the sea (to me)

by petitfleur (moonfleur)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, mild mentions of anxiety, soft times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:53:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26046847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonfleur/pseuds/petitfleur
Summary: When he reached the beach earlier that evening, having driven straight from the office, his mind had been nothing but a loop of white noise and static and his pulse the only thing he could hear, thunderous in his ears until he had opened the doors and the sea had drowned it out.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Hong Jisoo | Joshua
Comments: 26
Kudos: 41
Collections: Challenge 1: Kidult





	you sing louder than the sea (to me)

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written or posted any drabbles in ages so I just want to thank the mods for setting this up <3
> 
> There are some mild descriptions of anxiety in this fic (very mild) but I wanted to give a heads up anyway. Take care of yourselves!
> 
> I hope you enjoy my interpretation of the theme ♥︎

_but more frequently I was finding myself sleepless, and he was running out  
of lullabies._

_\- Richard Siken_

* * *

The sea is a roar in his ears as he sits on the beach, the sand, cool and damp running soft between his fingers and toes. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here but he knows that when he got there the sun was only just about to touch the horizon, it’s rays reflecting off the sparkling waters in bright pinks and oranges.

It is dark now, the tide has come up a lot higher than it had been before and he had had to move himself further up the beach twice since. He didn’t mind though, not for lack of trying, but because he had felt _nothing._ Not the wind biting against his skin that’s become icy since the sun’s gone down. Not the spray of the sea against his face.

When he reached the beach earlier that evening, having driven straight from the office, his mind had been nothing but a loop of white noise and static and his pulse the only thing he could hear, thunderous in his ears until he had opened the doors and the sea had drowned it out.

He looks out over the sea, now a black, roiling mess under the smiling crescent of a moon that can do no more than shine weakly down at him and allows the steady lap of its waves to pull him back into his stupor. His heart has calmed down somewhat, although he still finds it sitting just a bit heavier in his chest. He can hear the sea now too, over the fuzziness in his head that had him nearly crashing the car a couple of times on the way over. And he can breathe, the cold air filling his lungs and making him feel alive in a way he hasn’t felt in a while.

In the distance, he makes out the sound of tyres crunching on the sand-covered parking lot not because it is loud but because it is the first sound beside the waves and the wind that he’s heard all evening.

The sound of footsteps follows it, feet crunching on sandy pavement before it hits the sand and the sound is swallowed by it. He remains aware of it, all the same, feels the movement in the air behind him and the eyes on his back so clearly that he doesn’t even flinch when someone sits down beside him, his breath coming out in a small huff when he lands on the sand.

“You didn’t come home.” The voice is soft and warm and it envelops him in a blanket of familiarity that immediately calms the storm raging in his mind. There is worry there, too, worry where it could have easily been accusatory, and it has something tightening in his chest. He is sitting so close, their hands lie beside each other in the sand but he doesn’t move any closer, doesn’t want to cross the invisible line that they both know so well.

It is up to him to move, so he does, taking the other man’s hand in his, slowly and carefully, fingers tracing familiar pathways before he places it in his lap. “Josh,” he whispers and that is all the sign he needs to gather him in his arms.

He buries himself in Joshua’s neck, breathes in the familiar scent — a strange mixture of their coconut body wash and his car freshener — and allows himself to relax for the first time since he’d run out of the office earlier that day.

Strong arms wrap around him, they pull him close and card fingers into his hair and it makes something warm bubble up in his chest, something soft and comforting, like the feeling of returning home after a long day. “Cheollie.” Joshua’s breath is warm where he’s whispering into the crown of his head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head and tightens his hold around Joshua’s waist.

“That’s fine, baby. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.” He brushes a strand of hair out of his face and presses a small kiss to his forehead. “But you can cry if you want. There’s no one else out here, just me, and you can pretend I’m not here too if that helps.”

That is probably what tips him over the edge, breaks the dam that’s been holding his tears at bay all evening and not because of the words themselves but what they mean coming from him. The sheer certainty that he has that here is where he can be the rawest version of himself — broken and hurt and aching — without fear. Here, with Joshua, in their spot on this abandoned beach in the middle of nowhere as the sea roars around him and in his mind, he is completely and utterly vulnerable. He is completely and utterly _safe_.

So, for once, for the first time in a long time, he gives in to his emotions, into the anger, the fear, and the frustration that’s been eating at him all day, and finally, _finally,_ lets himself cry.

* * *

They are huddled up in the back of the ridiculous pickup Joshua had insisted on getting when they’d first moved into this town, blankets strewn both over and under them. Seungcheol’s back is pressed against Joshua’s chest as they rest against the cushions piled along one end. The sea and the beach stretch out in front of them and Seungcheol sighs contentedly, leaning even more into Joshua who huffs slightly at the impact.

He reaches for Joshua’s hand and laces their fingers together before bringing their joined hands up to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it. “Thank you. For finding me.”

Joshua hums, pressing his lips to Seungcheol’s temple even as he keeps his gaze fixed upon the waves crashing along the shoreline.

“And I always will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't forget to check out all the other works in the collection and remember to give all the authors a kudos if you enjoyed the fics <3
> 
> Find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/moonfleur_) or [curious cat](http://curiouscat.me/moonfleur_) ♥︎


End file.
